


Dreams and Consequences

by MayvinFreewood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Mavin, No Idea, and cliche, but deal with it homie, fantasy?, its interesting, of some sort, sort of out of character, sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:12:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayvinFreewood/pseuds/MayvinFreewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As his keys clicked in the lock and his desk came into view, a smile crept onto his face. The lamp beside his chair illuminated the mess of paper, coloured pencils, and ink pens beautifully. To the untrained eye, it looked like an absolute clusterfuck, but to Michael, it was heaven. In those badly chewed pencils was Gavin’s frame; in the dirty markers was his life; in the ink was his smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams and Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my weird AUs that I seem to love to write ~~(while I neglect my big story oops)~~
> 
> This was meant to be a short fic but kind of exploded and now there's probably going to be two parts. It's also kind of out of character, but I really really liked this idea. 
> 
> Enjoy, loves.

“So, you like drawing then?” asked a mildly annoyed voice from across the table. The sudden change in tone quickly snapped Michael out of the trance he wasn’t even aware he had slipped into. He glanced down at the placemat he had hunkered over, where he had doodled the man that was the subject of most of his creations. Immediately he swiped his forearm over it, though it was pointless since she had already seen it. That was when he realised his chosen medium had been ketchup. He also noticed his date had already gathered her pocketbook and looked prepared to leave, he brow furrowed in frustration.

“Look, K...” _Shit, what was her name again?_ Michael coiled inwards on himself, feeling twice as horrible for forgetting her name. It wasn’t his fault his best friend Ray had decided to hook them up at the last minute.

“It’s Kelsey—and I get it,” she stood up and smoothed her skirt, tucking her pocketbook underneath her arm. He sighed; there was no saving this one, either. He just nodded his head at her dejectedly, and she huffed, briskly leaving the restaurant. Ever since he had developed a new art style and thus created Gavin, he hadn’t been able to focus on much else. The comic strips seemed to be endless as he got him involved in all sorts of antics. Ray, being the kind of guy he was, was worried about Michael and decided he needed to try to get a lady into his life. So for the last three Fridays, Michael had been forced into blind dates, which all ended almost as soon as they began because something would spark up another idea and Michael would be lost to the confines of his mind.

Sitting there alone at the diner table, he caught a glimpse of what he had drawn: Gavin had French fries tucked under his upper lip and was pretending to be a walrus. Michael laughed half-heartedly, something inside of him was incredibly attached to this man that most certainly didn’t exist. And it was tearing his life apart. “I wish you were real,” Michael muttered as he paid for the uneaten lunch and left a moderate tip.

As usual, he called Ray to fill him in on yet another failed date. “I couldn’t even remember her fucking name,” Michael groaned, running his hand down the length of his face.

“We’ll just try again next week,” Ray said from the other end. Somehow, he seemed to have an endless supply of single female friends that were all eager to meet a man they didn’t even know.

“Can’t we just give it a rest?” Michael said lowly, having planned on sounding stern but instead he just sounded tired. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to get back to his desk and continue drawing Gavin.

“Fuck no, you’re not going to end up like one of those weird dudes that marries a video game character or some shit,” there was the sound of gunfire followed by a string of celebratory swears on Ray’s behalf. “We’ll find her; maybe she’ll be an artist and have a playmate for Gavin. Then you both can be happy,” he jeered.

“It’s not fuckin’ funny, dude,” Michael was halfway home, ideas already swirling in his mind for his next piece.

“You’re right. It’s fucking hilarious. Now go spend some time with Gavvy-Wavvy, then get your ass over here for some Call of Duty,” and with that, they ended the call.

As his keys clicked in the lock and his desk came into view, a smile crept onto his face. The lamp beside his chair illuminated the mess of paper, coloured pencils, and ink pens beautifully. To the untrained eye, it looked like an absolute clusterfuck, but to Michael, it was heaven. In those badly chewed pencils was Gavin’s frame; in the dirty markers was his life; in the ink was his smile.

After fetching a beer, he sat down and as soon as pen hit paper he was gone—lost to the world that had been building in his mind. Nearly two hours passed before his phone was chirping non-stop. He had completely forgotten about visiting Ray. Sprawled out in front of him was at least fifteen new pieces, all beautifully done. All of them featuring a sandy-haired man with a ridiculous grin.

Michael picked up his phone and found ten unread texts and three voicemail from Ray, all of which were different variants of “get your fucking ass over to my house or so help me God”.

“I’ll be right over.” Michael quickly replied, then glanced down at the numerous works scattered on his desk, feeling a pang of sadness at leaving Gavin at home again. _I really have a fucking problem._ He thought, grabbing his keys from the hook and heading out.

~*~

“Alright, so since you didn’t show up for three fucking hours, I’ve decided I’m going to force you to go to this sketchy festival down on the pier,” Ray said, pointing down the street where lanterns and people chattering could be found, “and you’re going to take the first girl you make eye contact home with you.” Michael shot a deadly glare at him, but decided to go along. If anything, he would have more scenarios to put Gavin into.

As Ray suspected, the festival was _incredibly_ sketchy. It was one of those festivals with a freak show, toothless people, and rigged games. Michael kept his focus on the ground, knowing that as soon as he began to people watch, he would lock eyes with a fire-eating contortionist and Ray would never let him back down.

“Make you wildest dreams come true, only five dollars!” cried a woman with a thick accent that Michael couldn’t place. He snapped his head up without thinking, unable to control the images that flashed across his mind at the idea of bringing his wildest dreams to life. _Gavin._

“Don’t even think about it. This stuff is such a joke,” Ray said, noticing Michael reach for his wallet.

“Oh come on. It’s just five bucks,” Michael said, taking out a wrinkled bill, “and besides, she might need it to feed her fifty cats,” he joked lowly and approached the booth that was adorned with all sorts of odds and ends—shrunken heads, voodoo dolls, multiple bundles of herbs. The woman grinned at Michael and extended a hand that had rings on nearly every knuckle. She sat behind a cauldron that shimmered gold in the dim lights each booth had within.

“Hello! Hello, sit down,” she smiled, many of her teeth having the same golden shimmer as her cauldron. Ray rolled his eyes and leaned up against the shanty as Michael entered, feeling as if he were the star in some cheesy indie movie.

“So, you wish for your wildest dreams to come true, yes?” she gracefully placed his money into a red velvet bag and rested her hands on the sides of her cauldron. Michael could only nod, afraid to say anything. “Then you have come to the right place, my dear,” her eyes twinkled mischievously as she grinned at him, “Let me know when you’re ready.” Michael quickly nodded, still unable to find his voice, which was quite unusual of him.

He then found himself engulfed in darkness for a brief moment, before three blue candles were lit to the sides of him. He could feel heat coming from the cauldron that separated him from the odd woman he had decided to be alone with in a tent. _I swear if Ray thinks I should take her home…_ a strong scent of herbs and candle wax filled his nose, interrupting his thoughts.

“Take my hands, and concentrate on what it is you desire,” Michael gently clasped the woman’s hands. Now he definitely felt like he was in an indie movie. He almost laughed at how cliché it all was. Nonetheless, he did as he was told—not that it was very hard. Gavin’s face was always somewhere in his thoughts. He smiled; thankful the darkness was shrouding him. He imagined it was Gavin’s hands he held, the idea that he was romantically interested in a fictional character slipped his mind completely.

“I’m going to count back from five,” the woman’s voice sounded distant, as if she were all around him yet nowhere in particular all at the same time, “when I reach one, I want you to thrust the thoughts at the front of your mind as hard as you can,” he voice was floating though his head, his veins, his lungs. His breathing felt tight, but he held desperately onto the image of Gavin.

“Five. Four. Three. Two,” Michael tried to take a deep breath, “One.” He let his mind throw every ounce of his strength into projecting Gavin into every crevice of his mind—every comic strip he had made of Gavin, every absent-minded fantasy he had imagined—it all crashed in his brain, the feeling was electric and set his nerves on fire.

He was brought back to his current surroundings by the sound of a match being struck, and the original lantern being relit. He blinked the smoke from his eyes, feeling as if he had just been forced to stay awake for far too long.

“Go home and rest. Your dream will find its way to you. Do not be afraid though, for with this dream will come consequences as well,” the woman crooned, her smile not as deep this time. _Oh, thanks a fucking lot for warning me ahead of time._

“What the hell are you two blazing in here?” Ray asked, poking his head into the tent and glancing around. For the most part, the smoke had cleared, but Michael was still holding onto the woman’s hands. He tried to slip them away before Ray could see, but it was too late, the man was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Michael said, his head feeling heavy. Ray was about to protest when Michael nearly fell to the ground as his feet refused to cooperate.

“Alright, alright,” Ray said, trying to help him support his weight, “Let’s get you home, then,” he shot a dirty glance at the lady running the booth.

~*~

The rest of a night became a blur to Michael. The walk home. Actually managing to get his door unlocked. Getting undressed. Getting into bed. So, when he awoke to find himself in pajamas and comfortable in his own bed, it freaked him out a bit more than it should have.

Had he seriously slipped so far into la-la land that he was dreaming of clichéd movie plots?

When he entered the living area, though and saw Ray passed out on the couch, he knew it hadn’t just been a dream. Ignoring his brain saying it would be rude to wake his sleeping friend, he threw a pillow at Ray.

“Prick,” Ray muttered, hugging the pillow to his chest and prying one eye open.

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“Uh… we went to that festival thing and uh,” he sat up a little, but closed his eye again, “and that weird lady got you super fucking high. So I crashed here to make sure you weren’t going to try flying out your window or something,” his voice began to trail off as sleepiness crept back in.

Michael rubbed his eyes, not wanting to believe it actually happened. He had been dumb enough to pay a strange lady to convince him she had magical powers and could make Gavin real.

“You want coffee or something?” he finally said, and Ray snorted himself awake and muttered something incoherent before slouching back onto the cushion. With a glance at the clock, Michael saw it was five in the morning. _Oh well, I’ll just have a head start on drawing._ He walked over to his desk and clicked the lamp on, but what he saw nearly made him scream bloody murder.

All of his drawings were ruined. They no longer contained Gavin—he didn’t know who the subject in them was. Frantically he rummaged through his drawings, and not a single one of them had Gavin. “No, no. No. No. Fucking no!” he yelled, slamming his fists down on his desk.

Quickly he picked up a pencil and a scrap piece of paper and began to sketch Gavin. Except that he didn’t. The man that appeared on the paper wasn’t Gavin. _There will be consequences._ The woman’s voice floated in his head again.

“What are you bangin’ around on shit for?” Ray asked, leaning sleepily against the wall.

“My fucking drawings! Look!” he flung them at Ray who just stared at them at his feet for a moment, then picked one up.

“Who’s this?” he turned the page every which way he could. He knew Michael’s drawings, and he knew all of his characters.

“Exactly! They were Gavin!” he clutched his curls in his fingers and screamed. He didn’t care if he woke the neighbors.

“You don’t think…” Ray glanced at him from over his glasses.

“I don’t want to fucking believe it! She was a fucking hoax at a festival on a fucking pier that was worth five fucking dollars…and now I can’t even draw him again!” he shrieked, tears of anger touching the corners of his eyes.

“Calm down, Michael. Seriously. She said there would be consequences, right? So if this happened, that means whatever you wish—oh for fuck’s sake, did you seriously wish for that?” he was beginning to wake up, and realised what Michael had wished for.

Michael grumbled, “I didn’t think it would actually fucking work.” He attempted to draw Gavin, first visualising him and then slowly drawing the contours of his face. When he was finished, an unknown man stared back at him. “Who the fuck are you?!” Michael yelled and crumpled the paper up and flung it past Ray’s head.

“Maybe the lady can reverse it…?” Ray laughed; even he had picked up on how cliché the whole ordeal was.

“You know how this shit goes, Ray. If it worked, that means she either can’t reverse it or the festival has already left town and chances are not a single person on planet Earth has ever heard of it,” he sighed, sinking into the acceptance phase of his anger.

Ray chewed the inside of his cheek, “Well, let’s go get some breakfast and see if we can come up with a solution.”

~*~

The two of them spent the rest of the day trying to forget about the previous night’s events. Of course, for Michael, it was impossible. It had been bad enough that the man he was enamoured with didn’t exist, how he didn’t exist outside of his own mind. He couldn’t even draw him anymore. Ray was past the point of being concerned when Michael refused to eat, claiming he didn’t have an appetite.

“Look, man. You can’t mope around for the rest of your life,” he started, and Michael looked like he was slowly developing the ability to spit venom, “so let’s just go around the city and look for someone that looks like Gavin,” he bit into his bagel and chewed thoughtfully, hoping it was the plan that would get Michael out of his funk.

“That…is actually a good idea,” Michael poked at his own meal. _Why hadn’t I thought of that?...Oh, right. Because my fucking brain is a god damned mess._

So the two of them set off to people watch in the least creepy way they could.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wowowow, you guys actually like this and junk <3 I'll post part two ASAP! Who knows...it might end up being more than two parts!


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